


Crawling Back to You

by My_Dear_Watson



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: F/M, M/M, Stefan sure didn't, Suspension of disbelief needs to be your best friend for a couple of chapters, Who knew Roy Earle had feelings?, kind of a songfic but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the game's ending, Stefan is visiting Cole. He comes across an unexpected guest doing the same, as well as finds out several things he didn't know before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The World Was Wide Enough

Stefan Bekowsky turned up the collar on his jacket and shrugged into it further. It was pouring rain, and being that it was the two-year anniversary of losing Cole in that _horrific_ way, and the weather had been the same the year prior, he was wondering if Mother Nature had as much of a vendetta against Cole as Fate had. He glanced at the graveyard, sighed and trudged up the small flight of stairs that led to the graves. He spotted the other '-sky' name that he recalled started Cole's row and pivoted to follow the line. He stopped abruptly upon seeing someone about thirty feet ahead.

Roy Earle was standing there, looking down at Cole's grave. 

Stefan wondered if he was seeing things, or if the raindrops were just blurring his vision enough and his brain was just filling in the sihoutte. When he realized it wasn't the case, the detective contemplated diving behind the nearest gravestone to avoid being seen by the older man. However, A, on second thought that sounded like a dumb plan, and B, it sounded kind of disrespectful to whoever's grave he would've used as a shield. He looked around frantically, trying to find another hiding spot. Most of the LAPD members who had known Cole had changed since _Then_. Even Roy had- to a point. The man was still easy to piss of if he jumped to conclusions about something, and there were about twenty conclusions that could be jumped to in their present situation. Almost all of them ended in Stefan looking like a creep.

"I see you, Bekowsky. No one can miss that suit anywhere."

Stefan flinched when Roy's voice reached him. He had to bite his tongue to prevent the knee-jerk reaction of retaliating with " _you should talk, Salmon Sleeves_ " that came to mind any time the vice detective had insulted him before. He simply pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked down, then glanced left and right. He hoped it looked like he was paying respects to one of the people on either side of him and not wondering why the Hell Roy Earle was standing in front of Cole's grave looking like he was in pain.

The black-haired man scoffed and backed away from the grave a couple of feet. He advanced on Stefan and tossed his arms out. "Here to chase me outta here like the German Whore or even the Former Missus Phelps did?" He demanded bitterly.

Stefan paused, then shook his head. "No, I'm here to pay my own…" He trailed off. He was still to preoccupied with trying to figure out why Roy was there. Last he recalled, Roy and Cole hated each other, so what the Hell was he doing here? Why was Roy the one who sounded pissed and protective over Cole's grace? "… Respects… so why are you…?"

Roy scoffed again. "Of _course_ , because the heartless bastard who sold him out can't pay respects to the guy he knew was the best L.A detective in years, right?"

Stefan opened his mouth, then firmly shut it again.

Roy shook his head, then shoved past the other man, taking care to let his shoulder slam into Stefan's, nearly knocking him off balance.

Stefan righted himself and closed his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at Roy. Christ, every other cop in town would have his head for saying what he was about to. But then again, the bastard was just caught red-handed having a fucking conscience. If that wasn't means for at least comment, he didn't know what was.  "I don't blame you, you know…" he pointed out. 

Roy stopped just at the mouth of the row of graves. He remained quiet, then replied without turning around. "Bullshit, Bekowsky. You all do. That kid Ralph, Biggs... Galloway punched me in the face as he announced the theory that Phelp's death was my fault. Connelly doesn't look me in the face, not that I mind, the Limey…" He trailed off. "You would think I magically raised those damn water levels in those pipes as opposed to just giving the affair away."

Stefan shook his head. "We all know why you sold him out. You had no right to do it for that reason to begin with…" He stopped himself again. It wasn't the place to argue about that topic. Doing so in the graveyard was bad, but right in front of the man in question's gravestone was worse. 

Roy turned back slightly, and seemed to read Stefan's facial expression and came to the same conclusion. He shook his head and turned back around and started to walk again.

Stefan hesitated, then trotted after him. "Earle, hold on."

Roy stopped again and looked back at him. "What, Bekowsky? I have better things to do than stand around chatting with one of the boys who want me dead for starting the Golden Boy's fall."

Stefan slowed his pace. "I already told you I don't blame you." Stefan replied. "… You know the way to Rhodie's Bar?"

"Yeah, why?" Roy narrowed his eyes.

Stefan frowned."Just… come get a drink for the… anniversary." He glanced back at Cole's grave. "Hell, call it 'for old time's sake', even if there were none between you and I." His frown deepened when Roy paled when he said 'old times sake' and looked like he was in pain again, trying his damnedest to hide it. The younger detective decided to ignore it for now. He'd ask if he succeeded in getting the man to have a drink. and only if they were both drunk off their asses.

Roy loosened up after a moment. "Now why would I wanna do that? Last I checked we haven't spoken since that last case that overlapped both our departments a few months back."

Stefan tried not to growl. He was trying to be nice to a guy who he still honestly thought was an asshole. Hell, he had bowed sarcastically to Roy during one of their first cases that overlapped; why stop that pattern now if Earle was going to shoot him down anyway? The Hell with graveyard etiquette. "Fine then. The drink may help dislodge that giant stick that's up your ass," he countered.

Roy raised his eyebrows and advanced on the man a second time. "Run that by me again?"

"You heard me, Earle," Stefan challenged. He put on a brave face, still expecting Roy to attack him.

To his surprise, Roy let out a genuine laugh a moment later as opposed to punching him or breaking his neck with his bare hands. "Yes I did, Beckow." Roy began, then sighed. "You know what? Fine. Who am I to turn down a chance at getting a drink anyway, huh?" He shrugged. "I'll meet you there. I have some stuff to handle; you wouldn't wanna hear about it."

"Hm," Stefan replied. He wasn't going to argue that point. He knew Roy was still corrupt. He was still in business with the big dogs- these days the dogs were just a bit smaller. He probably had business to attend with them. 

Roy grunted himself, then shrugged further into his jacket. He took one last glance at Cole's grave before putting his hat back on and heading for his car.

Stefan watched him, arching an eyebrow when Roy passed him and he was confident the man wasn't going to turn around again. He briefly wondered if Roy had thought the offer for drinks meant that Stefan was buying. He pushed aside the thought. He was willing to buy a couple of drinks if they were essentially for Cole. He didn't mind the possibility of figuring out part of the mystery that was Roy Earle, either. It was enough for him that the offer had gone smoothly with no insults thrown his way- well, bad insults, anyway. He shook his head and made his way over to Cole's grave, nearly forgetting that was the reason of going to the graveyard in the first place. He knelt down, greeted his old friend, and told him all the things he could list off- how he was, how his girlfriend of eight months, Viv, was doing with him, how some of the rest of the crew that Cole had liked were, that Herschel had actually decked someone who had trash-talked Cole the week before, how they all missed him. He said his final goodbye- for then, anyway, and left, heading for his car.

It wasn't until then that he remembered it may have been a bad idea to go get a drink with one of the most hated cops in L.A. He ignored it. Now wasn't the day to worry about that. He got in his car and started on his way to Rhodie's.


	2. I'm the One Who's Burning Now

Roy didn't know what had possessed him to actually listen to Stefan and wait for him at Rhodie's. It wasn't like any of his usual dives. Hell, he would never have set foot in the place if Stefan hadn't asked. It was for people that were below him, as far as he was concerned. He knew it was a favorite place for a few patrolmen to go after work. He couldn't wait for the strange looks he would get walking in there. Not just from the cops, but from _everyone_. He would stick out like a sore thumb. Usually he wouldn't mind, but there were different circumstances this time. He glared up. "You enjoying this, Cole?" He muttered before getting out of the car. He headed inside, and tried not to roll his eyes when exactly what he thought would happen did. At least ten sets of eyes went to him. He kept his eyes trained just above the floor as he headed for the bar itself, sliding onto the chair closest to the wall.

The bartender approached, not bothering to hide he was sizing up the other man, wondering why a guy in a suit like that came into his bar. "What can I get an upstanding gentleman such as yourself?"

Roy tried not to smirk at 'upstanding.' He leaned back. "You can give me a few minutes before my…" What was Bekowsky? Last he checked, he didn't have people he called friends. Then again, he and Bekowsky never had any issues with each other, so at least that was something. Besides, what would a bartender he would never see again care? "Friend gets here."

"Sure thing, Pal." The bartender turned back to his own business.

Roy tried to make himself look busy, fiddling with his jacket or the matchbook inside one of his pockets. When he couldn't stop feeling sets of eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder, seeing two of the latest recruits to patrol staring at him. They were muttering to each other. "Hey, Reed, Samuels. You keep staring like that, your eyes'll get stuck!" He called. He relaxed when that got them to look away and come up with new subject matter for their chat. He went back to looking busy for a while until he felt someone tap on his bicep a couple of times.

"Holy shit, you actually showed."

"Bekowsky," Roy greeted.

Stefan slid onto the stool next to him and waved the bartender over. "Hey, can I get a couple of shots of whiskey?"

The bartender nodded, then looked at Roy expectantly.

Roy shrugged. "Bourbon for me. Hell, bring us a bottle of it and a couple of glasses. And give us the expensive stuff. So help you if I find out you gave us cheap shit." He replied.

The bartender blinked at him a couple of times, then looked at Stefan and raised an eyebrow.

Stefan, who had also been staring at Roy, looked back at him and waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, Lou. I'm afraid my… friend isn't trained to go out in public."

Lou and Roy both snorted, then Lou went to go get the requested drinks.

The two men waited in silence for a while. Once they got their drinks, Stefan hesitantly raised his first as Roy poured his. "To Cole, huh?"

Roy stared at the man's drink for a while, trying not to pull a face. However, he did bring his own glass to the other and grunted a response.

Stefan was never anyone to push a point, so he took the successful toast as a small victory.

Their next drink followed quickly in silence. The silence itself continued on for a few minutes. They both regretted being there alone. For the first time, Roy absolutely hated silence, so he figured he'd be the one to break it. "So if you're gonna stay quiet why the Hell did you bring me here? You had Galloway, or Leary, or Esteban or whatever the Hell his name is…"

" _Enrique_ , and they're just fine on their own, thinking of what today is or not. _I_ for one think that there shouldn't be a person who cared about Cole alone today."

"I cared for him as little as I care for you people, and I was fine last year, so why now?" Roy shot back.

Stefan put his drink down. "Because last I checked, not leaving your damn house on the one year anniversary isn't a good thing," Stefan challenged. When Roy blanched but covered it up, he nodded. "Yeah, I know about that. Galloway found out somehow and had a goddamn field day going against you for it," he added when Roy narrowed his eyes."Fine, you wanna hold that against me, then just call this karma. You spend one year sulking alone, you'll do it again after this." 

"Thought people like you didn't believe in karma," Roy replied, taking a swig of his drink.

"Well, that just goes to prove that you should quit assuming things about people so quickly," Stefan replied.

Roy curled his upper lip, clenched his fist and took yet another swig. He tried not to deck the man.

Stefan rolled his eyes, then poured himself another drink. "Whatever…"

Silence took over again, and they had a few more drinks between them before Roy's set started to affect him. He didn't know what it was- maybe 'the expensive stuff' had more alcohol than he assumed, maybe it was the voice in the back of his head that suspiciously sounded like Cole, maybe it was the fact that someone was finally bothering to actually hear his side of the story. The sudden urge to speak came over him, and he fell to it. "He saved my life, you know. Three times." He didn't see Stefan look at him with surprise written on his face that he had even bothered talking. "One- he shoved me outta the way of a car coming right at me- probably one of Mickey's goons. Two- kicked my feet out from under me when some son of a bitch was about to shoot me. Three… pulled me back before I fell two stories out of one of those damn Elysian Field house's skeletons because I had no idea the one damn door would lead to an unfinished room…" He let out a laugh that came out loud and high, indicating to both of them he was more drunk than either of them thought. "And how do I repay the guy? I throw him under the bus…" He shook his head. "Fuck it. I don't know why I bother denying it. I might as well have been responsible for his death, and I have to live with that."

Stefan was at a loss for words. He gaped like a fish out of water for a moment. He didn't even expect Roy to be a talker when he was drunk, but that just definitely proved him wrong. He didn't even know what to say. He swallowed hard. He wouldn't touch the first issue, but the second he could work with. "You said yourself you didn't make the water level rise. Just keep blaming the water." He sighed. He had taken Cole's side when it came to Roy backstabbing him. Was Cole at fault for cheating on his wife? Yes. But throwing your partner under the bus to cover up one of the many things you were involved in so you'd get off clean? That was much worse. However, with the details Cole had given him on that whole fiasco, Roy's situation was still odd in his book. "And… and Cole told me you warned him to stay away from Elysian-"

"It was a warning from Monroe and those bastards, not me," Roy cut in.

"Cole didn't seem to think so. Well, he did with the first, not the second one, anyway. He said you said it twice. He didn't know what to think when you said it the second time."

Roy flinched. "It doesn't change a damn thing. Hell, he still went after it, probably to spite me. He went after it, got involved with that moron Kelso, then that chase…"

Stefan frowned. "You know about that?"

Roy snorted. "You get enough info and hear about who's involved, you basically put things together on your own."

Stefan frowned, then nodded. "Cole called me that night. Told me to try and stall as many patrolmen as I could at the station so they couldn't go after them."

Roy raised his eyebrows. "I half expected you to be in a car right next to them clipping the patrol cars that got too close to one of theirs."

Stefan shook his head. "I wish. Who knows what woulda changed if Cole had more back-up."

"Not a damn thing." Roy deadpanned, taking a swig of his drink again.

Stefan narrowed his eyes. "Huh?"

Roy scoffed. "Come on. You really think those two young bloods and the old bat coulda made it that far against all those patrols without some help?"

Realization dawned on Stefan. "You…?" He looked towards the front of the bar, out the window and at Roy's car. It would've been hard for anyone to miss in the crowd. How had anybody who had been there not seen him? How was he just learning this now? 

"Didn't use that one, and a lot good it did anyway, huh?" Roy picked up his glass again and moved it in a circle so the contents swished around. "Could've gone with them all the way, but I figured that wouldn't be welcomed."

Stefan frowned again. "But you… I thought…?"

"What? I hated him as much as he hated me back then? Yeah, I did. That didn't mean I didn't trust the crazy bastard, whatever scheme he was trying to pull."

The amount of brainpower it was taking for Stefan to absorb the new information was making him sober up already. He was aware the man could've been bullshitting him- he wouldn't put it past him, but if he wasn't… Hell, was Roy even really drunk? The man sighed. He'd just have to go along with whatever the man said for now.

Roy shook his head and took another drink. "'S not like it matters now."

Stefan sighed and took the bottle of bourbon and Roy's glass away. "You know what? I think that's enough for you. Lou?" he waved the bartender over and pushed the bottle back to him, then looked pointedly at Roy's glass. 

Lou came over and took both things, seeming quite happy that the mystery man had been cut off, taking pride in seeing Roy try to snatch the things back but overshooting to the left about four inches. When Roy glared the man down, Lou just smiled sarcastically and went about his work.

Stefan got up. He really hated what he was about to do, but whether he liked it or not, Roy was still a cop and therefore his brother. "You know what? You're in no state to drive. I'll call someone to get your car-" He hesitated. He had Viv in mind for that, and he had a feeling Roy would find out somehow, and he highly doubted Roy would be happy that Stefan let a woman drive his car alone. "Or we'll take yours back to my place and I'll call someone to get mine."

"Hell no. I'm not letting anyone drive my car."

Stefan wanted to point out he had let Cole drive, but thought better of it. "Fine then, show me you can drive. Walk in a straight line from this table to that one." He pointed at a table ten feet away.

" The fuck do you care, Bekowsky? Why are you bothering all of a sudden?" Roy snapped.

"I thought we established that." Stefan frowned. "Go," He shook his head when Roy went to, then stumbled, catching himself on the bar. He growled and looked at Stefan.

Stefan nodded. "Right. Stay put. I'm gonna go make a call." He turned and headed for the phone as fast as possible, knowing full well Roy probably wasn't going to be staying put long- whether it was falling over or trying to escape didn't matter. He made the call to Viv, and once she agreed to come by for the car, he thanked her, apologized then quickly hung up. Sure enough, when he got back, Roy's spot was vacant. He looked around, and when he didn't see the vice detective, he looked at Lou.

Lou shrugged and pointed at the exit door. "Went that way. Muttered something about that guy Cole you mentioned really loving 'this', then walked out- well, stumbled out's more like it…" he explained. 

Stefan nodded, took his wallet and took out the cash he assumed would cover the drinks. "If it's not enough, just write what I owe you and tell me next time I'm here. Hopefully Earle'll remember to pay me back," he told the other man before heading out the door.

Once he got out, there was a low metallic rattle off to his left. He assumed it to be a racoon rooting around in the dumpster, but the sight of Roy Earle leaning on said said dumpster while cradling his fist proved him wrong. He sighed and went over to him. He pulled back the man's shoulder before Roy could get in another punch or kick. He didn't expect to see and hear Roy let out a choked sob the second he touched his shoulder, either. He froze again. This was all new territory, and as far as he was concerned, it was the most dangerous yet. Roy was showing emotion. Showing emotion he'd probably find girly and want to kill whoever saw him display it. Still, if something as simple as a touch broke the dam, well, that was a goddamn catastrophe, and there was no way in Hell he was going to leave Roy alone. 

Roy let out a second sob right after, having lost all grip on the tough guy act. He paused a moment, gritting his teeth and getting a white-knuckled grip on the dumpster, trying to compose himself. He failed miserably and fought another sob, just in time for his knees to give way. He let himself collapse against the dumpster, leaned back, and inhaled sharply again. 

After a few moments, Stefan was satisfied the worst was over and he spoke up, but kept his tone gentle. "Roy, come on. Let's go."

Roy inhaled sharply and shook his head, looking away. After a moment, he looked down. "I _miss him_ , Bekowsky…"

Stefan nodded slowly, wondering just how many things Roy had revealed that evening that Roy would be threatening him to keep quiet or be shot in the morning. He highly doubted "I know" would help, since there were clearly more emotions tied into that night for Roy then he once thought. He gave Roy's arm another tug. "I do too, buddy. Now come on, let's get you sobered up."

"... Okay." 


	3. I'm Not Alright

Roy groaned when he came to the next morning. Everything hurt, but his headache was most definitely the worst pain. He forced his eyes open a sliver, taking in his surroundings. Light tan walls, low light, dark brown furniture everywhere... just where the Hell was he? He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Somehow, some way, he remembered everything about the previous night- so was he in Bekowsky's place? It made sense. He strained to hear any clues- and a moment later, he got one- Stefan's voice was coming from a nearby room, and he didn't sound happy.

"Look,  _Finbarr_. You don't have to like it… He needed a friend, I was there… I don't care. I don't call him a friend either, but hey, the force makes us brothers, and it was for Cole… come on, give me a break… … … Fuck, Galloway! Did 'went out for a drink with Earle in Cole's honor' somehow translate to 'rob a bank with Earle' in that scrambled brain of yours? … … I just told you I don't! … That's the damn reason why I can't come in! … Well, would you trust Earle alone in your house?… No, didn't think so! … … Goddamn it. Stop arguing and just tell the Cap I can't come in… ... Well make something up! Christ!"

There was a rough sound of some hard object hitting another, and then nothing. Roy glanced behind him to see if he was on a bed or couch, and when he saw a couch arm, he scooted back in order to lean his head on it, his body protesting all the way.

A few moments later, Stefan came through the entryway Roy was facing. He was walking at a fast pace, spurred on by the annoyance that had started up due to the phone call, with the phone in hand. He spotted Roy awake, then nearly tripped over his own feet. He stood still and stared at him for about a second before he turned and walked back out of the room, slower this time. Another few moments passed, and he came in with a glass of water in one hand and a couple of asprin in the other. He held them out to Roy.

Roy sat up further, then eased his legs over the side of the couch so he was upright. "What, no hair of the dog that bit ya?"

"You drank enough for the week- or maybe even month last night, so no." Stefan replied.

Roy let out a syllable's worth of a laugh. "How many?"

"That you had? I lost count after ten."

Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me they were all shots."

Stefan attempted a sympathetic look. "Some were…"

Roy shook his head. "… Am I lucky to not have died of alcohol poisoning?"

"Ohhhh, yeah." Stefan nodded.

Roy leaned back. "Fantastic. Spilled my guts to you and almost died. Some way to go." He looked around again, then frowned."Where's my car?"

"Up front, safe and sound and in sight, so if any punks try anything, we'll see it." Stefan offered a smile of his own, but it faded quickly, remembering a question he hadn't asked yet. "… So, how much of that phone call did you hear?"

Roy scoffed, even if his head gave further protest again. "… What, you afraid I'll be offended? I heard nothin' but the truth from your end, and I can figure out what Galloway said."

Stefan looked at his hands. "Look, Earle…"

"Don't sweat it, Bekow." Roy cut him off.

Stefan blinked at him, then nodded, relieved Roy either didn't want to hear it or foresaw what he would've said. He shook both hands a couple of times, repeating the offer.

Roy took both, downing the pills and water as fast as possible.

Once again, a silence that almost pained the two involved started between them and stayed around for a while. Like the first time, Roy was the first to break it. "I'm no good at thanking people." Roy began, and looked away when Stefan looked at him, surprised the man even said anything of the sort for the second time in twenty four hours. "It's not… our people don't…" he went on.

Stefan shrugged. "Don't worry ab-"

"Shut it. I'm trying to thank you," Roy cut him off.

Stefan put his hands up in defense.

Roy looked down. "… I'm not…" He struggled for words. "… Everyone knows people don't give a fuck about my side of that _time_ , so… … I owe you a lot… so just... thank you."

Stefan nodded after a moment. "You're welcome… … just don't make me regret it."

"Mm hm…" Roy hummed. He turned and put his legs back up on the couch. "On the phone it sounded like you didn't give a damn, so I'll just pass out here again and sleep this off," he turned his back towards Bekowsky.

Bekowsky stared at him for a while, then arched an eyebrow when Roy gave off a low snore. "Well, that went a little too well…" He shook his head and got up. He had things to do in order to distract himself until Roy woke up again.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight…" Vivian LeBlanc leaned forward, putting her arms on the restaurant table she and Stefan were sitting at two days later. Stefan and Rusty had gotten a case whose investigation lasted until three, so Rusty had insisted they go have lunch. Viv worked nearby, so Stefan had offered to invite her. Rusty had never been fond of her, mostly because of 'the way she thought', so he had sat on the other side of the room at the bar table with his food. "You go to pay respects to your friend, and the guy who half the people in the LAPD  blame for your friend's death is there, and you offer to go get a drink with him just because he looks hurt over it? Even after he's treated you like shit time and time again?"

Stefan opened his mouth, then paused, waiting for the men around them who had turned to look at the pair to turn around before continuing. "… How may times am I gonna have to repeat to everyone that he was different that whole night. _Scary_ different. We both coulda used a friend. I call it a favor… I just didn't… … I think he really did care about Cole… more than we all thought he did." Stefan replied. 

"You mean unlike you all thought, period?" Viv replied. "From what I've heard you're all adamant they hated each other." 

Stefan shrugged and nodded.

Vivian sighed. "Thanks to all of you and your boys' stories I trust him as little as you all do. Just be careful with him. He could be playing games."

"I know, I know… I just… for the first time I really, really hope he's not."

"I hope so for your sake, too. Wouldn't want anyone manipulating my man."

Stefan smiled, then leaned over. "It'll be fine. Don't worry about it. Now, Rusty's getting antsy over there, so let me go before he starts complaining and scaring everyone."

"Alright. And make sure he doesn't pull anything on you for helping Roy, either."

"Will do, Viv. See ya later."

* * *

As it turned out, Roy wasn't pulling anything.

Even weeks after Stefan helped Roy out, their dynamic changed. Roy stopped his insults going Stefan's way, but didn't stop the ones against any other people. If they had any overlapping cases, he'd stick with Stefan, and if anyone had a theory about the case, he'd tell them to 'shut up and let Bekowsky talk.'

Stefan wasn't at all sure what to think. When it got to the three month mark, Stefan was in the run for a promotion to Vice. After a while the detective had a very, very big hunch Roy wasn't just pulling strings- he was yanking them to try and get him up to his rank and partnered up.

The whole exchange led up to an argument between Roy and Leary that nearly came to blows when all three men were in the same room. Even Stefan's "Can't we all just get along?" just increased the older pair's annoyance. However, as usual, Roy won, and Stefan was soon on his way into the Vice ranks.


	4. The Ghost of Me

Stefan knew two things: One, Roy had inherited Cole's driving skills, or made it his business to make his driving either equal or worse than Cole's. Two, Roy was going to be the death of him, one way or another. In the months that followed him being promoted to Vice, Stefan had more near-death experiences when he was in the co-passenger seat more than when druggies shot at them. If they were in a car chase and the suspect made a sharp turn, Roy would make a turn three or more times sharper than the suspect, manage to not flip the car somehow, and keep up with the suspect to boot. There were also the few times during chases that Stefan had nearly lost his right arm since he was shooting at the suspect's tires when Roy thought it would be a fantastic idea to ram into the other car at near full-speed.

Stefan had started to wonder if Roy had a death wish. It had started off as a joke, really. Roy was back to his arrogant self, but as time went on and the memory of the first evening at Rhodie's remained in his head, Stefan was coming to terms with the possibility that it could be a fact that Roy's guilt had started to manifest in said death wish. He was more convinced when Viv voiced the same theory. That had led to another serious conversation at Rhodie's. Roy laughed off Stefan's worry and promised he wasn't suicidal- "Come on, I have a face like this and I want to end it all? Please. Now, when's Viv getting an engagement ring, huh?"

As much as Stefan hated the crystal clear deflection, he wasn't going to push it. Especially when the man had chosen _that_ particular subject to switch to.

It didn't stop Stefan from getting an uneasy knot in his stomach the more he thought about it, though. He said it once, he'd say it again, even if Roy was arguably a friend now. If it was one thing the man deserved, it was that much guilt on his shoulders. He felt bad, and Cole's death still wasn't directly on him, but he did play a part, and there was too much bad blood between them to make it an easy pass, either. Still, he tried to drag Roy from place to place to pull him out of the funk, and Roy only seemed to let up occasionally.  

When the third year anniversary of Cole's death rolled around, it was a near repeat of the previous year. Stefan had visited his grave, said what needed to be said, and left, only to see Roy in his car on the other side of the grounds. He walked over and tried to remain silent when he saw that Roy had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and he was squeezing his eyes shut. Stefan knocked on the side of the door to get his attention.

Roy tried to cover up the fact the sound made him jump, then saw the culprit and offered a weak smile in greeting.

Stefan opened the door and sat in the co-passenger seat. He let a few moments of silence pass, then he looked at Roy again. "So… Rhodie's?"

"Rhodie's," Roy nodded and started up the car. 

Stefan leaned back and got comfortable, and if he saw that Roy's eyes seemed a bit bluer and glassier, well, he wasn't going to bother bringing it up yet.

* * *

He never got the chance. Their trip was cut short when Colmyer called them to a homicide case where two of the latest recruits were having trouble keeping the media- and civilians, at bay by a murder case. They settled for stopping for coffee and going to the scene. Before they even made it to the scene, Roy had already voiced his theory on it- being that it was a typical Lover's Lane type area, a girlfriend wasn't letting a boyfriend get any so he killed her. Stefan wasn't so sure, but he knew there was no sense in arguing, either. Once they got there, chased off a few reporters, then took in the scene, Roy was convinced he was right.

"See, Bekow? Hormones win again. Hormones always win," the older man insisted.

"Whatever you say, Earle." Stefan rolled his eyes. He looked over the scene to see if he could spot anything Mal could've used to help him get the entire story about how the girl was murdered.

"Pushover," Roy accused.

"Jackass," Stefan countered.

Roy smirked, then turned to see if any reporters had snuck back. No reporters caught his eye, but one of the men who had come down from the hill and were walking towards them. He dropped his cup of coffee, and didn't even realize it until it hit the ground and splashed up and onto his pants. Roy jerked back, knocking into Stefan as he did so."Holy shi…!"

Stefan stumbled, then caught himself. "Christ, Earle. What the Hell…?" He turned, then spotted what had gotten his attention. "Holy shit." He agreed. "That's…"

"That is a six-foot-something skinny-as-a-twig version of Phelps. The fuck…?" Roy finished. He started to walk, willing his feet to go, since they seemed to refuse to obey his mind at first. "Hey, you…"

The tall, blonde mystery man reached the pair. "You Bekowsky and Earle?"

"Yeah. Who the Hell are you?" Roy demanded, then pushed Stefan when the latter man elbowed him in the rib.

"Richard McCallister, Homicide." The man replied. "Mal's got a theory that a boyfriend got handsy, the girl didn't like it, so he… went overboard, I guess you could say."

Roy looked at Stefan and smirked. "Toldja,"

Richard frowned. "… Are you making a joke about this case? Are you kidding? Someone's died!"

Roy frowned. "Are you fucking...?" He even had Cole's personality and moral center. _Fuck._  "I made a theory that matched Mal's is all, _Dick_." Roy replied. Lookalike or not, he was never a fan of a holier-than-thou attitude and he needed to nip this one's in the ass then and there. 

Richard looked at Stefan, who shook his head as if to say 'don't bother.' He scoffed. "Just keep the scavengers away." He ordered before heading back to the scene.

Roy watched him, then hesitated before running a hand over his face. "Hey, Bekowsky?"

"Earle?"

"… Cole have a brother or cousin or something we weren't aware of?"

"No idea."

 

The pair continued to watch as Richard made his rounds chasing off bystanders. Roy spotted a reporter sneaking up the hill. He walked forward a few feet, then pretended to go for his gun. The reporter scurried away. Roy smirked once again, then turned back to his partner. "What's that, Bekow?"

Stefan strolled over to him and gave him a not-gentle pat on the shoulder. "Ya know, if a second chance... Hell, maybe even a bit of redemption, was human- it just gave you a right hook that knocked you on your ass."

Roy rolled his eyes. "I don't believe in that crap, Bekowsky. You know that."

Stean arched an eyebrow, then nodded towards the scene. "After that? You might just start having to believe, Pal."

"Whatever." Roy waved him off.

* * *

Roy really, really hated when Stefan was right. Especially where the new kid Richard was concerned. He ended up eerily like Cole- solving the cases and getting in everyone's good graces in record time- second only to Phelps himself. It bothered the Hell out of Roy. The no-nonsense attitude that was _so Phelps_ it hurt kept up, too. After a while, Roy concluded that 'bothered' wasn't the right word. Richard damn well _infuriated_ him. That was Phelps' shtick. No one should've been able to do that. Why was everyone so fucking happy about it? They had lost Cole after that shit progressed. Did they want it to happen again? His stomach turned at the thought of it, even if he would never admit it. Losing a guy who could've been Cole's twin would end up being Hell. He really, really fucking hated Richard and how terribly _Cole_ he was. That didn't stop him from giving him the same attitude he had given Phelps occasionally. He figured burning the bridge early would help. He was wrong. 

When Richard had about enough of Roy snapping at him any time they crossed paths and giving him a constant nasty looks, he asked Stefan if he knew what the problem was.

Stefan caved. He told him about Cole, but didn't use the detective's name. He just called him 'an old coworker.'  He knew that saying his name could've brought forth all the media bias and trash that came with it. There wasn't a person in the city that wouldn't have recognized Cole's name or the story. He left out Cole's fate as he did so, but put great emphasis on resemblance between the men. He kept Roy's side out of it, too.

When Richard had commented that Cole 'must've been a weak guy to put up with a man like Roy and the way he treated him' one day when Roy was in earshot, Roy had marched over, punched him in the face, hauled Richard up by the lapels of his jacket, hissed something about Cole being a better man than any of them that Stefan didn't quite catch, and left without another word. Richard merely cradled his jaw and looked at Stefan expectantly.  Stefan revealed Cole's fate to him, then backed up Roy, claiming he was 'a complex guy.' That promptly shut Richard up, and he had made a quick exit himself.

Richard remained skeptical about the 'Complex Guy', and kept his distance from the pair, unless talking to them was absolutely necessary. Those 'necessary' moments happened more and more often as time went on. They frequently ended in Roy and Richard yelling at each other and throwing insults or punches. 

That was, until one case that had their paths cross again. Drug trafficking ended up with a murder. Their team-up had gone fine for a while until a car came out of nowhere and sped towards their crime scene. Roy and Stefan were the first two to notice the barrel of a couple of guns sticking out of both windows. Despite Stefan's yell of warning and a few people ducking, Richard seemed oblivious, too busy examining a piece of evidence to notice. Gunshots rang out and all Hell broke loose. 

"Damn it, Phelps!" Roy called before he even realized what he had said. He tackled Richard to the ground, having flashbacks almost immediately. The roles were just reversed from that one damn time those years ago, and it wasn't actually Phelps there with him. It was then that he realized what he had called him. He looked Richard dead in the face for a while, and yeah, there was Cole's face instead of Richard's for about two seconds before his brain took pity on him and corrected his vision. His stomach flipped. They lay still for a while, until there was the sound of screeching tires and a crash. A few of the gathered patrol officers started yelling and running in the direction that the crash had come from. Roy let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looked over at Richard. The younger man was looking at him, eyes blown wide, mouth agape. Roy wasn't sure if it was just reaction to the situation or the fact he had just called him Phelps. He pushed that aside. "Bekowsky? Stefan!" He called, rolling onto his knees and pushing himself upright. "Fuck- talk to me! Where are you?!". He couldn't believe that he was genuinely terrified for the man's safety. It was Bekowsky and that girlfriend of his' influence on him, and he hated it. 

Stefan stood up from his spot behind a mailbox and waved. "I'm good! You good?" He walked over, making sure that the patrol officers were dragging the shooters and driver from the car a few feet away.

Roy offered a nod, then looked back at Richard. "Dick?"

"I'm- I'm fine." Richard replied, then paused. "Hold on a second. You called me  _Phelps_."

"He _what_?" Stefan's eyebrows shot up. 

"He- Earle just called me Phelps. Is… wait a minute. That story- Phelps- Your friend who died is Phelps?! _Cole_ Phelps?" 

Roy frowned. "I don't like where this is going…"

"I just- Cole Phelps- is- _was_ my cousin." Richard added. "I knew the story sounded too familiar!" 

Roy stared at him, then, without so much as blinking, decked Richard in the face.

"NO! Roy, no!" Stefan called, running over before Roy could continue the assault. "Not worth it!" He blurted. He hooked one arm around Roy to yank him backward. 

"Come on, Bekow! Just one punch! Lemme at him! The kid comes to this division and he doesn't even do his damn research about who's… argh!" He tried to kick at Richard, who had stumbled back, but Stefan had a better grip, and had put his free arm up against Roy's throat. Roy, however, was Hell bent on being heard this time.  "He thinks he can come back and be Cole's damn twin and be Cole every chance he gets and punch me in the gut with it and…ah, ah, okay." Roy trailed off when he felt his airflow getting smaller and smaller from Stefan pressing too hard.

Stefan let his friend sag against him, then looked at Richard. "Believe me now?" he demanded.

"Yeah," Richard nodded, still stunned over the whole ordeal. He got up, and limped his way over to one of the patrol officers who had made their way back to where they were.

Roy panted. "This is Cole's way of haunting me and making me regret everything, isn't it?"

Stefan smirked and patted his shoulder. "Yes. Yes it is." 

"Well fuck. And I hate that kid."

Stefan patted his shoulder. "Remember, second chance. If the last time was a right hook, this might have been a kick where the Sun don't shine." Stefan replied. "So _be nice_."

"I don't do nice, Bekowsky."

"Try," Stefan countered.

"Fine… but can I punch him again?"

"No,"

"Just once? Please? For putting the both of us through that?"

"… Fine. But just... slightly gentler next time… and wait 'til tomorrow."

"That's why I love you these days."

"Hey, keep that up and I'll change my mind."

"You got it."

"Wow. Now seriously, stop. This is weird. You must've hit your head when you fell…"

Roy figured that would've been a bad moment to admit Richard had turned into Cole for a moment. He got up, ready to face whatever the rest of the day threw at him- and plan the best opportunity to deliver the allowed punch. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Roy and Stefan have finally settled into what seems like normal life again, Cole gets thrown back into their lives. But this time, it's not just a look-alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugggh, so, I tried to promise myself I wouldn't do the cliche "OhmyGod, Cole's alive, whhaaattt?!" thing, and then I got too attached to this story and putting Roy through Hell, so I couldn't just leave it as is. So I went with the cliche that'll come with more chapters, but the cliche with a logical twist because there's no way Cole would've survived that without some serious mental or physical damage, so voila, cliche with a twist you'll just have to find out about shortly.

Roy groaned when high pitched screeches woke him up from what was one of the very few decent night sleeps he’d had in the last few days. Stefan and Viv's little demon spawn was just over three months old, and he was already a royal pain. Roy had been living with Stefan and Viv for six months of the last year after sassing his landlord one too many times. At first he had hated the arrangement, since Stefan and Viv were in the newlywed stage after getting hitched, even if they had only done so because Viv had gotten pregnant.  After little Finn Bekowsky came along, the arrangement was worse because he was on the couch in the living room, right next to the guest room-turned-nursery doorway where he was the first to hear the kid screaming.  “Someone shut _that thing_ up!”  

“How about _you_ shut up, Roy. We’re getting _him_!” Stefan called. “ _Him,_  Roy. Finn’s a person.”

“A very small person who shouldn’t count as a person yet,” Roy replied.

Stefan groaned, then there was silence for a while.

Roy got up and stood in the doorway, waiting for Stefan again. It was three hours before they would usually get up for work, so now there was no point in going back to sleep.  

* * *

 Hours later, the pair were glaring each other down over the roof of Stefan's car. It had been a tense ride back to his place, and it was only a matter of time before the latest argument was going to boil over. 

“I still had Lewis, you ass. If you hadn’t been all ‘I _will_ shoot!’, I would’ve been able to tackle him.”

“He had _twenty feet_ on you, Roy. You might be good with tackling people, but you can’t jump that far unless you sprouted wings, and you wouldn’t risk your suit getting ruined even if you could tackle him from that range,” Stefan replied, then glanced into the living room as they made it into the house. “Hey, Viv? Gordon? Ya there?” he called, tossing his jacket to the side.

Usually on Tuesdays, the pair would come home to a newly-arrived Gordon Leary helping Viv take care of Finn. A year ago, Viv had dragged Stefan to a family reunion of her mother’s and Stefan had found out that Viv and Gordon were cousins. He was absolutely mortified, but Gordon had only laughed it off, clapped him on the back and said it was fitting they ended up more or less family. Which of course prompted the “break her heart and I’ll break your legs and neck” threat directly after that.  Stfan had never been so happy that he was no longer in Homicide and didn't have to see Gordon daily after that particular reveal.

The pair walked into the living room and saw that Viv and Gordon had their eyes glued to the television. Finn was sitting on the floor against Gordon’s shins, holding onto Gordon’s hand that was all but limp.

Stefan shot Roy a confused look, and when the other man shrugged, he stepped closer to them. “Guys…?” he asked uncertainly. 

Gordon finally snapped out of it in order to look at them. “Uh, you guys uh… you may wanna… wanna... take a look at this.”

The pair turned to see what the commotion was about, and both of their hearts practically stopped. It was some commercial for some grocer that looked a little too happy for a farmer, but it was what was behind him that got them. There was a worker in the background.  _It was Cole._  Or at least it was another doppleganger that looked even more like him than Richard. Or it could've just been something in the photography. The imposter was smiling away, chatting with a customer. 

The pair stared at the screen for a while before Roy turned sharply and headed for the phone in the corner.

Stefan stopped gawking at the television when he heard  Roy all but slamming his fist into the phone do dial a number.

Seconds later, someone picked up, and Roy went off. “I swear to God, _Dick_ , if this is some-“

“Roy!” Stefan warned.

“No, Stef! I’m shooting him this time!” Roy replied.

Stefan went to protest further when he heard Richard about to reply.

Roy didn't give him the chance. “News. _Now_. If this is some joke and that idiot wife of yours made you look-"

Richard finally spoke after a few seconds. “ _It’s not a joke, Earle! I’m as confused as you are! What, you think I wouldn’t tell you that I saw my dead cousin on the news? I’d rather not have you murder me, thanks_.”

“Well it wouldn’t be surprising if you were toying with me,” Roy shot back. 

“ _Would you shut up? Can we please focus on the fact Cole’s just magically alive?_ ”

Roy cursed again then slammed down the receiver and glanced back at the television to see if the ad was still on. No such luck- or lack of luck, anyway.

 “You boys wanna get down there?”  Gordon asked after a while of silence.

Roy glanced at him. “Wha…?”

Gordon got up, picking up Finn in the process. “There are gonna be some very angry people that homicide had to release after Cole's... situation back in the day who might have seen that," Gordon explained. "If they saw that commercial..." he continued. When he saw that the other two finally caught on, he nodded. "Viv and I can take care of the kid. Go sort this out,” Gordon replied.

Stefan opened his mouth.

Gordon arched an eyebrow. “Do you really doubt that your son’s mother and second cousin can take care of the kid for an hour or longer? Go find Phelps and figure out whatever the Hell is going on before the people who got out because of that crap go to find him first,” Gordon continued. He frowned when Stefan opened his mouth. “ I may not be your boss anymore but that doesn’t mean I can’t pull strings –“

Stefan shot up and he and Roy scrambled for the door, getting out and hurrying into Stefan’s car.  all but It wasn’t until they were halfway down the driveway that they realized they had no clue where they were headed.

As if on cue, Gordon poked his head out of the door. “Green’s Market on Fifth!” he called.

And so, they were off.

* * *

 

When they reached Green’s Market, the pair refused to take any chances. Roy all but shoved his gun in his holster and made sure to park close to the place and mapped out five different exits. They walked in, and when they saw Cole, or another one of his mysterious twins, whichever it was, Roy almost tripped over his feet. Stefan just stared. When Roy went to turn around and walk right back out,Stefan grabbed him.

“No! No! You are not growing a conscience now! You’re not gonna leave me to this, either!” he hissed, then all but shoved Roy forward. Roy sidestepped and shoved Stefan in front of him.  

Stefan sighed. He approached Cole carefully, relieved that the man’s back was turned. “Uh… Phelps?”

Cole turned and smiled at them. “Hi, fellas. Can I help you?”

Stefan let out a syllable’s worth of a laugh. “Cole, what… it’s us! How did you…?”

Cole raised his eyebrows. “Do what? Do you gentleman need help with something?” he asked. 

Roy continued to stare and tried to ignore his stomach going in knots. Cole was smiling, and it looked genuinely carefree- gone was the uncertainty he had seen in Cole’s smiles all those years before. The smiles that barely existed. Cole looked away for a moment at another customer who dropped something, and the smile dropped briefly into a frown, and Roy’s heart dropped to his stomach. Now that look he knew. Great.  Now his nightmares were coming true. They were literally coming through? But how? No man could survive getting tossed around in an overflowing sewer like a ragdoll. What the Hell had he done to deserve this? It wasn’t like he had done some horrible things that he deserved a lot of bad things to happen to him. He knew that. He had just expected to get shot and killed, one of Mickey’s goons getting the jump on him and stabbing or shooting him to death. Imprisonment with an eager cellmate for at least one of the crimes he pulled. But no, this was… … this was an entirely different situation. This was Hell and then some. And he hated it. He didn’t even know what ‘it’ was.

Cole turned back to them. “You... looking for something?”

“This isn’t fucking funny, Phelps. The Hell are you playing at? You know us!” Roy blurted.

Cole’s eyebrows shot up again and he gawked at Roy. “I don’t think there’s need for an attitude. Can I ask how you know my name? I don't think we've met."

Stefan glanced at Roy and saw the vein start to pop up on his forehead. Now it was a countdown til he blew. He wished he knew how to handle this situation. They should've brought Gordon to do the talking.  “I… sir… um, well, you do, but… this is…” How could he explain why they were there to a guy who apparently didn't know them? He studied Cole again and his heart ached. It was Cole, no doubt about it. He had the same intensity in his eyes, moved his mouth the same way, looked impatient the same way (shit), where should he even begin? Was Cole playing them? Would Cole play them? Well, him anyway. Cole would probably fuck with Roy in a heartbeat. If he wasn't, did he have some sort of amnesia? How did he survive? What the fuck was happening?! He gathered his thoughts, then worked out an idea. He took his badge out. “Stefan Bekowsky, LAPD. The loudmouth’s Roy Earle. What… how did you come across this job?”

Cole frowned, then looked at a man in a suit in the opposite corner, the apparent manager. “Is Ron in trouble, officers?”

“No, but you’re gonna be if you don’t answer the damn questions,” Roy snapped.

“Roy!” Stefan warned. He turned to Cole. “Phelps, if this is a joke-“

"It's not fuckin' funny," Roy cut in. 

Stefan pushed Roy back. “Ignore him. Look, I get you’d play dumb since Roy’s here, but-“

Cole shook his head. “I just told you two I’ve never seen you in my life. You have my name, but that’s all at the moment. And you, sir:  You know, there are ladies present. You shouldn’t be-“

“Oh, _now_ he sounds like himself. Being all proper and telling me how wrong I am.  Believe that, Bekow?” Roy cut him off.

“Roy, shut up,” Stefan countered. He looked at Cole. “Phelps… you do know us, but you clearly…” He stopped again.  He still didn’t know how to go about this.

But, Fate prevented him from doing so. After a few seconds of silence, there came shouting and cursing from outside.

The trio turned sharply to see what was going on.

Two cars had pulled up to the storefront and two groups of men were piling out of them. 

Roy took a chance to sigh and grabbed Cole’s sleeve despite the man trying to shake him off to get a better look at the commotion. He didn't like the look of them, and he wasn't going to take any chances. “Ya know, someday Leary’s gonna be wrong and I will be _so damn happy_.”

“What…?” Stefan began, finally catching sight of a couple of the men outside pulling guns from their belts. “Shit! Who...?!”

“Cohen. Phelps, you’re gonna have to go with our word on this one,” Roy explained. He shoved him towards the back of the store just as the others outside started opening fire on the shop. The windows shattered, sending customers and workers alike scattering.

“Bekow, cover!” Roy replied, giving Cole a good shove towards the back of the store and what he hoped was an exit. When he felt Cole under his hands, his stomach turned again because the contact made it all the more real- Phelps was here, alive, it wasn’t Dick, and he didn’t have a clue about them, and now people were after him. He had a feeling this was God’s twisted way of sending him a tiny blessing wrapped up in an infinite amount of disaster and more nightmares, but he figured now wasn’t the time to revisit his faith or luck or whatever. He kicked down the closest door once they reached the back and was relieved to see the parking lot- and Stefan’s car.

“What is happening?! Who are you people?!” Cole called, ducking when another round of fire came their way. “Are they… They’re shooting at us?!  Why are they shooting at us?!”

Roy shoved Cole’s head down to return a couple of the shooter’s fire, grinning momentarily when he shot one in the chest. “Actually, Phelps, they’re shooting at _you_.”

“Why?!  And how do you know me?!”

“Oh, _now_ you believe us!” Roy replied.

Cole glared at him, and Roy had to remind himself now wasn’t the time to let adrenaline take over and make the mistake of hugging him because he had missed _this_ Cole. The one who spent all of their time together glaring at him.  Of course, even as he tried to deny it all, his brain caught up with the situation at hand. Cole was alive and angry at him and it suddenly felt like home, five years ago when his life was just a little less miserable. He managed to snap himself out of the nostalgia. “Get the fuck out of here now, talk later!” He barked after a moment. They got to the car and he risked firing off a couple of rounds  before unlocking both doors, swinging the passenger door open and all but throwing Cole inside. “Stay down!” He barked, He slammed the door shut and fired off one shot from his gun, killing another goon. It took him a moment to realize he hadn’t heard Stefan’s gun go off yet. “Bekowsky!” he barked. He would forever deny the relieved sigh that followed when he saw Stefan turn the corner from the front of the store and barrel towards the car. “Come on, come on, come on!”

He got in, shoved the co-passenger door open and started the car, not waiting for Stefan to get completely settled when he finally made it into the car before zooming away.

“How many cars of these bastards do we we got?!” Roy called.

“One. I took out one’s tires,” Stefan replied. “Where the Hell is Phelps?”

Roy jabbed his finger towards the backseat before taking a sharp turn that tossed all three of them to the right.

Stefan turned around and shared a confused look with Cole before looking at Roy. “We hijacked Phelps?!”

“I think the proper phrase is ‘saved his life.’ Scratch that, we’re still in the process, so ‘saving’," Roy answered. He glanced in the rear view mirror. "We got one coming on your right.”

Stefan leaned out the window and fired at the goon’s car.

Cole finally leaned forward. “Can one of you tell me-“

“SHUT UP AND STAY DOWN, PHELPS!” the pair shouted in unison.

Cole drew back and ducked again, then scrambled lower when a bullet shattered the back windshield.

The chase continued for  a good few minutes, and Roy finally pulled over when he was certain they had finally lost their tail somewhere on Broadway. He pulled into a parking spot in a lot that was flanked by two giant trees and finally relaxed, trying to loosen the vicegrip he had on the wheel.

After another few minutes of dead silence, Cole finally spoke up. “You boys want to explain what all that was now?” he demanded. “Who are you people and why were those people shooting at me? How do you know me?"

Stefan noticed Roy went rigid and his vicegrip on the wheel was back at the question, and he sighed. He turned slowly. “You sure you’re okay after all this, Phelps? Because if you’re not, you’re just lucky you’re sitting, because you’re in for one Hell of a ride- well, a mental one this time, anyway." 

Cole merely blinked a couple of times before leaning back. ".... _Great_...!" 


	6. Your Lies are the Bullets

Cole looked over at Stefan as the man came back into the living room after disappearing for a while. He seemed like the decent sort, as did his wife, but he wasn’t sure about Roy. He wasn’t fond of getting stared at, much less glared down at point blank range. He couldn’t ignore the fact that an hour ago, Roy had taken a whiskey bottle from the cabinet and left for the backyard, and fifteen minutes ago, Viv had gone out to check on him, and now there was muffled yelling from outside. He realized Stefan was holding out a glass of water to him. He chose to pretend he didn't notice the man's hand shaking as he did so. How strange this must've been for everyone. He offered a weak smile and took it. Stefan had been the one to answer all of the questions he had so far. He had been told there was some accident when he woke up in a hospital almost five years before. He had apparently lost some mobility and a few years off his memory from the accident that even the doctors couldn't figure out- he knew that much. But now the blanks were being filled in, and he wasn't sure how to feel. He had been a successful cop after the war. Stefan and Roy were two of his partners in his time there. Something had gone wrong; Stefan refused to tell him just what it was- then he had been lost in a flood in a sewer. Quite the way to go, even temporarily. With every answer he got, ten more questions took its place.  “I… what did I do to Roy to… earn that? All those looks? ” he asked after a few loaded moments of silence.  “I know I have a lot to… catch up on, you know… after… _dying_ …” he stopped at that.

Something in Stefan's heart twisted when Cole raised his eyebrows, bit his lip and shook his head. Seeing that usual tick in person got his own emotions going, and he couldn't believe this was Cole all over again. "I uh... that's not my place to say. It's his. Wish I could help you." 

Cole scratched his ear. “So... there is something there. It's not just the guy being a grouch, huh?”

Stefan paused himself, then let out an uneasy chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t want to touch that with a thirty foot pole. I'll just say it's a bit of both." 

Cole frowned,  then glanced at the backdoor, focused on the yelling again. “Are… is your wife safe out there with him? He doesn’t seem like the… civil sort. Least of all to women." 

Stefan paused, then shook his head and shrugged “She should be. Roy’s tough, but… he has a begrudging respect for her. That doesn’t stop him from underestimating her ‘cause she’s a woman, though. She gives as good as she gets, don’t worry. She’ll…” he trailed off with a weak laugh.

Cole frowned. “What?”

Stefan shook his head again. “I’m sorry, I just… … if this was the old you, you’d probably have some jab about the fact that I’m _even married_ now. We uh, there were a bunch of conversations that we had that pretty much labelled me as 'not the marrying type.' It's weird, you accepting me being married point blank with no comments." 

Cole’s frown deepened. “So, essentially I was… disrespectful to _everyone_ , by the sound of it.”

“Disres…? Oh, no. You were… Hell, the most respectful of the bunch, unless we were talking about our feelings on the war or messing around about doing things… that weren’t strictly legal. Then you weren't so pleasant." 

Cole took a few moments to absorb the information. Then, the biggest question that came to mind that he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer to: "Did no one think to look for me?”He felt bad for asking, but he couldn't let that go unvoiced, either. He could work out the answer alone, but he wanted to gauge the man's reaction more than anything. 

Stefan flinched. "Phelps, you got swept away in a wave while inside a concrete and metal death trap. There was… … _you should be dead_ , no matter what. No one expected survivors from... _that_ ,” Stefan replied. He got up carefully. “Look, not that I’m not- it’s great to have you back- really. God knows we’ve all missed the Golden Boy-“

“Was I really that good?” Cole asked.

“You made the entire force look bad, pal,” Stefan scoffed.

“Including Roy?”

Stefan made a show of taking a few swigs of his own drink to show he wasn’t answering anything of the sort.

Cole sighed. “I’m gonna need answers eventually. I believe you and appreciate what you’re doing so far, but… I’m gonna need more.”

Stefan nodded. "Well, for most of those, I’m not the one to go to. Roy is. Or… your wife, but… I don’t know how that’s gonna go.”

Cole frowned. “My wife?”

Stefan looked up at him, shaken again. Cole had mentioned Marie by name. He figured he had known or had some memory they were married. If he didn't know- shit. Hello, giant can of worms that was worse than the Roy can.  “Marie,” he clarified. 

“I _married_ Marie?” Cole thought aloud.

Stefan stared at him, then huffed out a nervous laugh before rubbing his neck. “Yeah, and well uh…”

“Divorced?” Cole supplied, reading him.

“Yeah… with… well, there was something-"

“You schtupped a German whore who you were investigating during a case, people found out, media exploded, your life went downhill from there.”

Stefan’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, then frowned upon seeing Roy had come in. Viv peeked out from behind him and gave the men an apologetic look, but it switched to a worried one when Roy went deeper into the room to join them. 

Stefan scoffed. “What the Hell, Earle?”

Roy shrugged. “He wanted to fuckin’ know, Bekowsky.  He had to find out sometime,” Roy replied. He glanced at Cole, who had gone absolutely pale. He looked back at Stefan. “I’m staying in a hotel for a while," he announced. 

Stefan groaned. “Roy, are you kidding me?”

“I’ll be back soon, I just need to- I-  _I don’t need to tell you anything_!” he countered before he stalked out of the room. 

Stefan watched him, then looked at Cole, who had turned to him expectantly.

Viv cut in. “I’m sorry, I just… he lost it and went to storm in here, he was too quick for me, and…” She spotted Cole get even more pale. “I think me hanging around for the moment isn’t going to help, so… I’m going to go… clean our bedroom…”

 Stefan gawked at her, then looked at Cole again.

Cole, in turn, looked up at him. The man looked completely out of his element. He was half convinced he saw some guilt there, too. “That’s uh… that’s a lot of information to get all at once," he mused. 

Stefan flinched. “Yeah… he’s… Roy’s an ass. I’d say 'ignore him', but… that’s his way, and… well, he just outed everything I was gonna tell you slowly.”

 Cole nodded, then leaned back. “Was I… unhappy? If I stooped to that level?”

“No one really got why you did it, Phelps. I don’t even think _you_ did…”

“Did I ever talk to you about it?”

“I  uh, we never really got the chance. Don't think you would've if you could've, either. We weren't that close." 

Cole nodded slowly. “Did I ever talk to anyone _ever_?”

“You didn’t open up, no.”

“Well, at least that hasn’t changed,” Cole muttered. “… So, I cheat on my wife, I have people here trying to _kill me_ -“

“Because you’re a good cop,” Stefan cut in. “Not because you’re a bad person.”

“And if they’re as dangerous as they say they are and they… find us here?” Cole asked. “I don’t want to endanger any of you for just being me.”

“Well, that’s why this place has a bunch of hidden guns and two cops with anger issues- well, one cop and a wife who knows how to shoot, if anything, now that Roy's gonna be gone. Cole, I’m one of your only options here, and I’m not leaving you out to dry just in case it does come to that.”

“But-“

“Sleep, Phelps. We’ll work on trying to get… the rest of _you_ sorted out tomorrow.”

Cole didn't look convinced. "You sure?”

“Positive.”

* * *

 

Stefan was _trying_.

Cole would give him that, but could sense his apparent closest friend pre-accident was hiding things from him.

He figured it was for good reason. Stefan and his friend Gordon had started to let people from his old life back in to see him, but only after a giant group discussion about necessity.  Stefan had helped him track down Marie the previous day. Marie had absolutely refused to talk to him or let him talk to his kids, even after she had sobbed in the doorway upon seeing him. Elsa- the German woman Roy had mentioned had been extremely quiet about it, but looked pained as well as they talked the day before that. The nice, quiet officer, Herschel had gawked at him for a while before pulling him into a hug and calling him a bastard, although affectionately. Gordon himself had laughed weakly before shaking his hand and welcoming him back to the ‘Land of the Living.’ Rusty had slugged him before shaking his hand and stalking off awkwardly. It was... a mixed bag of reactions and he wasn't sure how to take it. 

Roy had made himself as scarce as possible in the time he saw him and Stefan together. Roy would come by and get something at the house, but go out of his way to avoid Cole the whole time. The way Cole would see Stefan observing the whole thing made him figure the missing part involved him, but he knew sure as Hell that he wasn’t going to get his answer anytime soon.

That changed one day, a couple of weeks after Cole’s last visit to town. He had gone out to get a few things to try and make himself more comfortable at the Bekowsky house. He had come out of the store, one bag under his arm when he spotted Roy just outside a store across the way. He sighed and tried to look busy just in case the man saw him when something blocked the light from beside him.

“My my, Detective Phelps. Imagine seeing you here, looking so… _lively_.”

Cole glanced in the direction of the voice and frowned at the old man. Square jaw, squinty eyes, a smile that unsettled him- he had a sinking feeling the man could’ve been in the group that had tried to kill him for… Reasons One Through Thirty. “Hello…”

The stranger's smile went damn near predatory. "Oh, so civil! I-"

“ _PHELPS_!”

Now _that voice_ was familiar. Cole had barely managed to blink before there was the sudden sound of at least three car horns honking, then there was a blur of grey and black, and suddenly, Roy was between him and the stranger. Not only that, but Roy had effectively pinned the stranger to the nearest building.

“The Hell are you doing here, Monroe?!” Roy hissed, leaning dangerously close to the man and digging his forearm into his chest.

Cole frowned. “Roy-“

“Shut the fuck up, Phelps, and get in my car.”

Cole frowned and looked around. He spotted Roy’s car and backed up a couple of feet.

The old man chuckled. “Where’s the sudden fondness for your man over there, Earle? Last I checked you were perfectly willing to sell him out to help the highest bidder." When Roy didn't respond, the grin got even more predatory. "He doesn't remember, does he?" then, louder: "Tell me, is he aware that you were a big part in his _original_ final moments? Was he resuscitated after all that? How does it feel having the man you betrayed back then, hm?”

Cole narrowed his eyes.

Roy only leaned closer. “Shut the fuck up. I asked you a fucking question.”

“Well, I have my ways, Earle. Took them  three years, but I’m a patient man. We both know that. I’ve noticed you’ve left the other payrolls. It’s quite strange not seeing your name there.”

Roy growled and let him go, then backed up a couple of steps. He turned around, only to pivot and land a right hook on the man’s jaw.

Cole gawked at the display of force, then watched as ‘Monroe’ went down- and Roy went so far as to dig his heel into this throat. He took a couple of steps back again.

Roy, on the other hand, leaned down. “I’m done with you. I have been. And  if you ever come anywhere near my people again, I will kill you- or have someone do it for me. You have your people, I have mine. Are we clear, you worthless piece of shit?”

The man laughed- honestly laughed. “Are you in the place to be making threats, Detective?”

“Hell yes,”

The pair glared each other down before Roy pulled back. “First and only warning…” he snarled before turning again. This time, he stormed over to Cole, and when he spotted that the younger man hadn’t listened, jabbed a finger in his car’s direction. “Get in the fucking car, Phelps. Now,” he hissed.

Cole hurried to obey this time, and got in the car and Roy all but launched himself into the driver’s seat before he sped off in it.

After a few seconds of silence, Roy took his gun from his holster.

Cole frowned again. “Roy, what-“ He stopped upon seeing the man looked shell-shocked. “Who was that?”

“Storytime later, worrying about our asses now. So, your memory only stops after the war, right?”

“Yeah, bu-"

“Good,” Roy replied. He took the gun and shoved it into Cole’s lap. “Eyes in the mirror. If you see anyone that looks like they’re following us, Option A- your old style: shoot their tires out. Option B, my style: shoot them between the fucking eyes.”

Cole looked from him to the gun and back. “Who was that? I haven’t seen you scared this whole time, why are you scared?”

“Because that’s one of the most dangerous fucking men on the street and I just put a bullseye on our heads all over again to save your ass,” Roy replied. After a few seconds, his face dropped. “And… he’s about eighty percent of the reason you fucking died.”

Well, there was part of the missing puzzle piece. He stopped short upon reviewing the statement. “… What’s the other twenty?” he frowned when the question made Roy go white-knuckled on the steering wheel. His jaw wasn’t far behind, the way it was clenching. “Roy?”

“Eyes in the fucking mirror, Phelps…” Roy replied after a moment. Cole noticed he suddenly sounded… defeated.

Cole leaned back, and did as he was asked.  He stopped short and glanced Roy’s way again when the older man swerved around one corner. “Where are you going?”

“Back way to Stefan’s. Monroe may have friends everywhere and if I can lose them in any way possible, I’m gonna.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, and when they pulled into Stefan’s driveway, Roy cursed upon seeing Stefan’s car there and he bolted inside. “Phelps, come on!”

“I’m right behind you.”

Roy felt under the nearest windowsill before he retrieved a key. He opened the door “Get inside.”

“I am!” Cole replied, trying to sway away from Roy as the man ushered him further in. “Roy, what the Hell is going on?”

"I explained it pretty damn clearly, Phelps. You know, you were thick before but I think that injury got rid of more than your memory-"

“Wha- is that-“

The pair looked  over when Stefan came around the corner of the room.  The man looked from Cole, to Roy. “I thought you-“

“Monroe’s back. He’s out. I don’t know how,” Roy blurted.

Stefan’s face dropped. “What?”

Roy shook his head. “I don’t know. He was out on First Street. Cole and I happened to be there and Monroe approached him, and… “ he faded off and shook his head. He scoffed and went back to looking about half as murderous as when Cole saw him staring the ‘Monroe’ character down.

Cole looked away when Stefan looked directly at him.

Stefan held Cole's gaze for a moment, then looked back. “What’re we gonna-"

“Where the Hell’s Viv?” Roy asked. 

“Next door, visiting the neighbors with Finn. What-“

“You’re gonna get Viv and the runt and get the Hell out of here, for starters,” Roy replied. “Stay at your dad’s place or something, I don’t know.”

“What? No! I’m not gonna leave you-“

Cole jumped when Roy advanced on the man. He thought he was going to slug him and flinched accordingly. 

Roy only grabbed Stefan by the front of the shirt. “I’m not gonna let this bastard get another one or more of you killed or almost killed, do you understand me?” 

Cole was further confused when Stefan just gawked at the man before nodding slowly.

Roy sighed. “This may get chalked up to nothing. I don’t know, but it’s him, so there’s a damn chance, and… just get the Hell out of here. I’ll be fine with Phelps," he finished. 

Stefan nodded again. He got his keys, then looked between the pair before leaving.

Roy walked over to the window and took a cautionary glance around before pulling the blinds down.

Cole waited a beat, and then ever so cautiously, “So… what now?”

“Now we wait and hope Good Ole’ Leland doesn’t figure getting rid of you twice would look good on his resume.”

“Is he… that powerful?” Cole asked.

“That and more,” Roy replied, then went over to the wooden  basket next to the mantle and retrieved a handgun that had been hidden in it.

Cole raised his eyebrows and scratched his ear. “So then…?”

“You shut up, you do what I tell you when I tell you, you don’t leave a twenty foot radius of me, if you see that guy or any of…” he trailed off, then went to the opposite corner of the room and picked up a newspaper before shoving it at Cole. Cole took it, and the older man pointed at a group of pictures of the men being questioned about involvement in the Monroe case all those years ago. “Those guys, in a different window, you tell me, then you duck.”

“But… _you’re_ in one of the photos,” Cole pointed out after a moment.

Roy froze, then turned to him slowly. “Funny how things change, in’it?” he forced out before turning back around and putting the gun on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch.

Cole looked from the photo, to Roy and back again. “How long d’you think we’re gonna have to do this?”

“No idea,”

“Not even a ballpark?”

“No,”

“Are you just going to  keep saying ‘no’ until I stop asking questions?”

“Yes. And well well, looks like there’s even more of the old you in there. Good on you, Partner.”

Cole wasn't sure why the word 'Partner' skeeved him out so much the moment Roy had said it. It seemed like that had been the only thing that his brain connected to the entire time. He filed that away for later. He knew he was in for a long haul with all the trouble getting stirred up, apparently just by him coming back into his own.

He was starting to miss his old life- even if it had apparently been his new one.


	7. The Pain You Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest installment. Also, I put together a playlist of songs that're more or less inspiration. That being said, it's 8tracks so I had to leave a couple out... including the title song. But anyways, if you enjoy seeing the behind the scenes stuff: http://8tracks.com/s_watson/crawling-back-to-you

Roy’s head shot up from when he was staring at the ground when the house’s doorbell rang. He would fully admit he had been drinking when he wasn’t supposed to- maybe it was the fact that he knew he was a slightly better shot when drunk and he had a feeling he’d need shooting skills if Monroe or his boys showed.  He got up slowly. For all he knew this was one of Monroe’s boys. But if it was, would they really use the doorbell and not kick or shoot their way in?

He made his way over to the door and flattened himself against the wall to peek out the window from behind the curtain. Gordon. It was safe.

Unless Monroe bought him off.

_No, Leary’s better than that._

He groaned and opened the door carefully.

Gordon looked up, and upon seeing Roy, he crossed his arms over his chest and sent him a disapproving look. “Eddie’s throwing a shit fit that you and Bekowsky aren’t around. Hell, even when you play hookie Bekowsky covers for you. What the Hell is- Earle?!” He blurted the name as the other man grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him inside.  He recovered from stumbling, then looked around. “Speaking of, where the Hell is Bekowsky? And Vivvie? And Finn? Is Phelps here?”  he walked further into the room. “Vivvie! Finn?!”

“Phelps is here, Bekowskys are… vacationing in the mountains,” Roy explained, waving his hand in the direction he hoped was the nearest mountain range. The alcohol was already making everything fuzzy.

Gordon leaned forward to get a better look at him, and then looked downright furious. “Christ, are you _drunk_ on top of that? And why are they in the mountains?”

“You mean you didn’t hear?”

“Listen here, you _dramatic_ _little shit_ -“ Gordon advanced on him and jabbed a finger into his chest.

Roy contemplated punching the man to get his ‘shut the fuck up’ message across. Then again, Gordon looked a third pissed off, a third confused, and a third worried. Damn Bekowsky for making him more sympathetic to those looks as of late. He uncurled his fist. “Monroe’s back," he explained. 

Gordon’s glare dropped. “What?”

“Monroe got out of prison. I didn’t get why… too busy decking him in the face.”

“You WHAT?!” Gordon hissed.

“He approached Phelps when we were in town… well, when Phelps was in town. There was some blow-up we had and I went to find him when I saw Monroe approach him on the damn street. The Hell else was I supposed to do?”

Gordon scoffed. " _Not punch_ him! If he’s still powerful do you really think the LAPD needs to get involved all over again?! Holy shit, Earle! If you're here, Phelps and Bekowsky aren't- damn it man, my family is involved!" He tossed his arms out. "You know, I made a promise to Viv's father on his deathbed I'd play big brother and look after her, so God help you if anything happens to her!" he hissed. 

Roy scoffed. "They'll be fine. And no, but the LAPD sure as Hell needs to provide a goddamn bullet to put between his eyes.”

“Says the guy he was paying off years ago,” Gordon scoffed.

“Hey, I was in good company there, Pal," Roy countered.

Gordon squinted. “I wasn’t on that list.”

“No, but Donnelly was. And Eddie. And McCormack. And Bosley. And-“

“I get it,” Gordon cut him off. “Is Phelps…?”

 “… He’s fine. He’s held up in the guestroom. Probably sleeping or reading or... some other academical bullshit.”

"It's just 'academic,'" Gordon corrected after a moment. Then, softer,  “He's still a bookworm, huh?”

“What, you didn't think that he'd still be one, after brain damage?" Roy asked. "It would take more than that to stop making Phelps a know-it-all." 

Gordon grunted in agreement, then walked over to the phone in the corner and dialed a number.

Roy frowned at him. “What’re you-“

“Getting a patrol out here to keep an eye on things.”

“No!”

“Why the fuck not?” Gordon demanded. 

“Because we saw him a couple of hours back. We came here because… it was the only place I could think of that wouldn’t do more harm than good.”

Gordon shook his head. “Right, the one with the brand new family-“

“Who I kicked out of here the second we got in, holy _fuck_ , do you liste-“

“Do you not remember the army that Monroe’s crew came after Phelps, Biggs and Kelso with?!” Gordon hissed. “Are you willing to go through that again if it comes to that? If Monroe decides that he really wants Cole out of the picture again?"

“Yeah, well, most of the boys and I did just fine with it getting them to the tunnels,” Roy snapped. He blanched, then frowned upon seeing that Leary had caught the look and looked sympathetic himself. “Don’t give me that pitying shit now.”

“That’s all you, Earle. Stefan told me that when you got smashed you admitted you felt like you gave Phelps the final shove… that led him… there. Hell, I believed you were respons-“

Roy advanced on him. He'd have to tear Stefan a new one for letting Gordon in on that information.  “Join the fuckin’ club! Hell, _I_ might as well be president of it.  I was the guy who fuckin’ sold his affair out to get attention off of me- off of the rest of L.A.P.D’s most corrupt that started him down that path.  Stefan can say it didn’t start with me all he can, but it’s not gonna get anywhere.”

“Earle…” Gordon sighed. “I didn’t- that wasn’t meant to…”

Roy scoffed. "Don't bother. You were one of the first to blame me-" 

"Wait, Earle-" 

"No! You had your chance to at least think up some shit and you're not backpedaling now." 

" _Earle._ " 

"I mean what is it with you people?! What more can I do other than put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger? Because fuck you all, I'm nearly there, and if I get one more sideways look from any of you, I might just follow through." 

"Roy..." Gordon said after a moment. This time it sounded pained.

For the first time so far Roy wondered if he had let out too much. However, he was so strung up, his anger won over and told him to keep going, because the bastards needed to know. "But then there's this shit. If I'm such a slimebag you all do a Hell of a lot of covering your asses whenever this shit comes up!" 

" _Roy!_ " 

Roy couldn't stop himself if he tried. Maybe he was sick of all of the accusations, maybe the fact that Cole was alive and here with him finally kicking in, maybe it was because he was sick of bottling it up again, but he was ready to explode, and it was all coming out now. "You would think all of you would be smart enough to figure I've done my share of killing but I'd be smart enough not to kill one of you intentionally, as much as I'd fucking enjoy it!" He wen on. He went to continue until his brain reminded his lungs to take in air, and it was enough to snap the rest of him back into the presence. And he finally registered Gordon saying his name so many times. Now Leart looked just as nervous as he felt before and he was staring at a spot over his shoulder. And he had called him Roy. He only called him Roy when he was entirely serious, pissed off, or the once in a blue moon: worried. The most logical explanation was suddenly so blatant it was painful. “Phelps…” he turned carefully.

Sure enough, Cole was behind him. He went from looking utterly shell shocked, to apparently sizing him up, and once again.

The look was so… the _old Cole,_ something in Roy’s stomach twisted the hardest it ever had, to the point he had to fight back nausea.  Roy sent Gordon a pleading look and the man merely offered a grimace that just about screamed 'I tried to warn you.'“Give us… a while, will ya?” Roy asked.

Gordon nodded and didn’t bother to hide that he practically deflated in relief from being dismissed.

“And no guards or anything. Just… this doesn't leave this household, with the exception of Cole's old partners. Maybe look for Monroe, get a tail," Roy added. 

Gordon nodded again, then offered a tight lipped smile at Cole, who returned it, before he turned on his heel and left.

Roy walked over to the door and glanced around quickly before closing it and locking it. He walked back into the room and muttered a curse before heading for the liquor cabinet. He went out of his way to not look at Cole.

Cole watched him. “So… that’s really it? That’s why you’ve been so quiet with this? That’s why you lost it with Monroe? You… feel responsible?” Cole asked after a few moments. After a beat, "... _you're_ the twenty percent that I asked about..." he recalled from the information he had been given and denied before. 

Roy refused to look at him for a while, then nodded slowly. “Yes. And, well, I was in good company there with putting all the responsibility on me, like  you heard,” Roy poured himself a glass of whiskey, then frowned, set the glass down and took the bottle to the other side of the room instead.

Cole struggled for a response. He came up with nothing.

Roy snorted. “Wasn’t talking about Leary or anyone else in the force. _You_ were the company in question." 

Cole made a face. “What does that mean?”

“Means you did a fair share of blaming me for everything that went wrong in your life the last time you and I actually sat down and talked. Well, tried to, since you weren't having any of it," Roy asked. It was then that he realized that that exact moment in time nearly perfectly paralleled their last conversation Blue Room. And here was Cole, unknowing and letting him talk freely. His stomach turned yet again and he took a swig from the bottle to compensate. 

“Why?” Cole asked. He saw that the man's eyes were getting glossy. It could've been the liquor, but still- booze, a range of emotion, the cause of the emotion right there with the emotional person... it was a horrible combination for anyone. 

“You just heard it,” Roy motioned towards the front door.  “Because I was the easiest target you had. I made you hate me, Phelps. I ruined your fuckin' life and that was enough to dump your anger on me for it. “Ball,” he motioned at Cole, then himself, "Rolling.  And then you fucked up and I shined a goddamn spotlight on that fuck-up to get the attention off’a me and a bunch of people. I kicked you into your fall from grace that led to you being the usual hero and getting yourself killed, then I paid for it for five fuckin’ years. Now here you are, apparently you were here _the whole fucking time,_ and you don't remember a damn thing about it." 

Cole wanted to gawk, but he knew that was the last thing the other man needed to see. He tried to finish registering everything. “If I knew… any of this… Hell, I’m still not sure if I’m getting all of it.”

Roy snorted, then took another swig from the bottle before he leaned over, reached under the couch and yanked a small suitcase out from its spot there. He dropped it on Cole’s lap and flipped the latches open. “Have fun learning.”

Cole frowned at all the few visible headlines, sporting photos of him,  and one with an open sewer grate gaping at the viewer, and it was Cole’s stomach’s turn to clench. “Stefan… kept all these?”

“Yeah. What aren’t his are mine,” Roy answered.

“But… why… if I was long dead, and if… if you didn’t care, if you hated me as much as it seems like you did-“

“Gettin’ rid of anything connecting to you was… an insult to your memory, as far as Bekowsky was concerned.”

“And… yours?” Cole asked cautiously. 

“Got no damn idea. Probably seemed like a legit excuse to do this,” he motioned at the bottle.

“Is that your solution for everything?” Cole asked.

“Served me well so far, why stop now?” Roy asked.

“Because it sounds like you’re looking to get yourself killed by whatever means necessary,” Cole countered.

Roy snorted. “Look at you, working things out quick. You’re gettin’ more and more like your old self every day." 

“I’m starting to wonder if that’s a good thing or not,” Cole replied.

Roy snorted, then caught sight of one of the articles and stopped abruptly. He flinched and looked away. After a beat, he looked up- not at Cole, just straight ahead, and with a thousand yard stare to boot. “Don’t…” he protested. 

“Don't what?” Cole asked.

Roy shook his head. “Don’t you dare fucking insult… _you_. _Shit._ You were the best of the best. You were better than any of us in any other way.  Hell, even if you’re the one insulting yourself, just… stop…” he sighed. “I trashed you enough for all of us back then…” he glanced at the paper closest to him again and got up, taking the bottle with him. "That's the funny part, Phelps. You just said I hated you. I never did. I couldn't, and I tried." 

Cole sighed. “Roy, I-“

Roy scoffed again.  “Hell, I don’t even know why the Hell I’m here… helping you. Christ, I don’t deserve it. You don't deserve it. It should be Bekowsky, Biggs- Hell, even that runt who's _still_ in patrol." 

Cole shrugged, not at all sure what else to do. “It’s a big help, for what it’s worth. Stefan’s been beating around the bush and that just makes everything worse.”

Roy all but froze at the first phrase Cole had used, and didn't seem to pay much attention to the rest. “Yeah, well, I’m not a good person, Cole. I shouldn’t be doing this at all. You deserve someone who… wasn’t directly involved with this shit. Maybe I should take you to Central… drop you with Leary and the ones who can explain better… and give you more of an explanation that doesn’t involve covering my ass.”

Cole glanced back down at the stack of papers and other things, and then realized he had just heard ‘Cole’ out of the other man’s mouth for the first time. He had always been 'Phelps', or 'New You', or 'Old You.' He glanced back up, only to find Roy was gone. He heard a door slam. There was another muted crash. He sighed and turned back to the articles. He took one deep breath and began to read. 

* * *

 

An hour later, he was all but shaking. It was _so_ much, _too much_.

He had about ten different obituaries. Some of them kept what was apparently the horrifyingly gruesome truth from its readers and others were more focused on his climb up the LAPD ladder. Then there was everything that led up to the death- his affair, what he had found out was a cover up with the prostitute- a story Roy had given them, no less. He still wasn’t sure that to make of that. And then, of course, the articles that described the gruesome truth- he was supposedly crushed under the water, pummeled, ended by, there were at least ten different ways the journalists had put it. The two articles that just claimed he was ‘swept away’ were a kindness. Other articles talked about Monroe, then all the fires and their cases he was involved in. No wonder Roy had attacked him and then chosen to retreat. Then came the ones with Marie – _his wife_ \- he _still_ couldn’t get around that- how in one she was struck with grief, others anger, and the ones where she wasn’t available or refused to comment.  Then LAPD comments- Leary’s exact quote in the article ‘proud of Phelps'’ achievements,  one reporter described Biggs’ immediate retreat back into the station when approached for a statement, a clearly edited statement from Stefan telling them they had more important things to report on than a dead hero. Roy never had a quote, but he was in the back of most of the photos, half looking awful, half ready to murder the one doing the photos.

At that rate, Cole wanted to vomit. He contemplated if coming back from all _that_ was a curse instead of a blessing.

And he saw just why Roy was so shaken, given the articles that named him among a bunch of dirty cops. He didn’t know how the man was still in the LAPD if that was the case, but if he had Monroe, he had enough balls to pull other strings. He could see why he pointed the finger at Roy so much. Still, part of him wanted to check on him. That part won out after a bit, so he went over and knocked on the door.

There was scuffling behind it, and after a beat, Roy opened the door. He looked worse for wear than the previous hour, with his eyes glassy and unfocused, and the bottle he was holding to his hip was now empty. 

Cole took in the entire sight. "Shit, Roy..." was all he could say. 

“Phelps!” the other man called and tossed both hands up, then set them on Cole’s shoulders.

Cole's answering frown deepened. He reached over and yanked the bottle out of Roy's hand with minimal effort. He dropped it lightly on the floor. “You are _very_ drunk right now…” he pointed out. 

“Uh huh! And how did your little reveal go, huh? Find out all you needed to find out?” Roy asked, far too cheerful for a man who looked like he was aiming to drink himself to death that night. 

“More or less…” Cole sighed. He straightened out and squared his shoulders. “Roy, there was no reason for you to blame yourself. I sounded like there was no getting through to me-“ he caught something like recognition flash across Roy's eyes before he sent him a death glare. “Not complaining, stating a fact. I just don’t get… the _why_. Why the animosity here from everything? Between us, at the case, you have no reason to be so apprehens-“ he stopped short and went wide-eyed when Roy suddenly swooped down and  _kissed him_. Hell, he had noted Roy getting closer and closer but he assumed it was balance issues with drunkenness. The rest of his brain caught up with the part noticing the movement, shut down and went into a panic all at once. He still hadn't guessed that Roy was... _that way inclined_. He shoved Roy away and stumbled back. “Wha…?!”

“There’s your fuckin’ answer, Phelps. Because I had _that_ on me. Because I apparently had a thing for a stupid, determined little caterpillar who got snuffed right before its pupa stage was up.  And then life has a funny way of fucking with me.”

Cole gawked again, then swallowed hard and shook his head. “Roy, you’re drunk, and you’re… emotionally and physically compromised, and just… you need to lie down.” He nodded after a beat, impressed that the statement was that articulate.

Roy laughed, then pat Cole’s cheek. “Couldn’t agree more, Partner…”

Cole watched as Roy pushed off of him, turned on his heel and slammed the door. A few moments later, there was a thunk and then something bouncing on springs. Well, at least he had made it to the bed without hurting himself. Cole could only stare at the door for a few moments, still trying to process what had happened. 

_Well, shit._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
